“Ever hear of a guy named Nick Stavros?” Ted asked Lester after filling him in.

“Should I?” Lester asked.

“Maybe Nicky Greco?” Ted wasn’t ready to attempt the pronunciation of Nikitopoulos.

“Sounds Greek.” Lester was only half listening.

“Forget I asked.”

Lester shook his head. “Why would the Russians farm out a job like that? Intimidation is what they do best.” He held up the cast. “Exhibit 1-A.”

“Yeah, but it’s not working, is it? We didn’t back off.”

From the Long Island Expressway, the segue out of Queens into Nassau was a gradual progression. Concrete and neon gave way to green trees and the occasional expanse of manicured lawn. The hospital was a gleaming temple surrounded by what could have passed for a bucolic suburban university. The effect was meant to be reassuring but was lost on Ted.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be,” he told Lester. “For all I know, they’ve sent her home already. I couldn’t get her on the phone.”

“Did I tell you to call the nurses’ station?” Lester asked.

“Did I tell you I couldn’t get a straight answer out of anybody?” Lester’s foul mood was wearing on Ted. “Did you run out of those pain pills?”

“I can’t stand taking them. They make me feel stupid.”

Ted would gladly have taken stupid if it came with pleasant. “Are you in pain now?”

“And they obstruct my natural body functions.”

“Your what?”

“I can’t take a crap.”

Ted took a breath. “Okay, so that’s a problem. What do you need? Prune juice? Raisin Bran?”

“Well, with a little touch of vodka, I can control the pain and let my innards take care of themselves.”

Of course. “I’m going to need you functioning, Lester.”

“That’s my point.”

Ted hesitated for only a moment. There were more pressing issues. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Lester scowled. “I’m not looking for favors.”

Ted thought a mood adjustment might do wonders. To Mohammed he said, “See if you can find him a liquor store nearby.”

Mohammed’s eyes widened a bit, but he didn’t complain.

Ted watched them pull into traffic. He was already kicking himself for giving in so quickly, but he needed to check on Kenzie. As he turned for the door, his phone rang.

It was Jill, finally returning his call. He answered with a brusque “We have to talk.”

“What happened yesterday? Grandfather said you never showed up.”

The old man might have adored his granddaughter, but that did not preclude him from lying to her. “Can we meet up?” What he had to say would be marginally easier in person.

A car pulled up and disgorged a distraught woman and a teenager. The boy’s arm was wrapped in a white towel turning a bright pink in the center. Skateboard accident, Ted thought.

“I’m worried about you,” Jill said. “What’s going on?”